


carry this weight (on your broader shoulders)

by Pirateofantiva



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Origin Story, Phantom Zone, and the phantom zone, i just have a lot of feelings about kara's origin story, if u hate supercorp u can still read this its not the biggest part of the fic, kara is one of the most interesting characters i've ever seen, mostly character study, okay but really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8725360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateofantiva/pseuds/Pirateofantiva
Summary: Sometimes, Kara can hear the Phantom Zone's whisper. (or, a look into the complex parts of Kara: Danvers, Zor-El, Supergirl, and the Girl in the Pod)





	

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from a jewish proverb: "I ask not for a lighter burden, but for broader shoulders."

Sometimes, Kara thinks she can hear the Phantom Zone call out to her. It’s never loudly, or with clarity, but occasionally, a twisted whisper falls on her ears. Even when she closes her eyes and focuses on it, she can’t tell where the sound originates; maybe it comes from within, from the emptiness the vast swaths of space left buried in her chest cavity. Or maybe it’s the galaxy itself, trying to bring her back, ensnare her again in its darkness. Once in a while, it gets so loud that Kara has to shut her eyes, clench her fists, take deep breaths her alien lungs don’t even need; It threatens to devour her in these moments, and the thought that one day it could terrifies her. She takes her fear out to the warehouse, and crushes so much metal that she forgets if they were ever cars at all. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

 

She floats, far above National City, and watches the sun rise. The rays slowly stretch over the horizon, and she lets it wash over her, inhales deeply when it warms her face. Kara feels its energy thrum beneath her skin, vibrate in her blood, and she focuses on that feeling of power in her veins. She closes her eyes, tries to picture the red sun of Krypton that would rise over the city and cause the horizon to glitter so brightly that Kara would have to shield her eyes. She would wake up earlier every morning, rush to the balcony, and watch it, enraptured by the view. Kara wonders how the light felt when it touched her. She can’t remember. 

That sun ruined any chance of a normal life when it destroyed her planet. She wonders, briefly, if the gift that Earth’s sun has given her has ruined any possible normalcy on this planet, too. 

Kara stays there until the sun touches the top of the CatCo building, then flies away. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

 

The world is silent when she takes bullets and punches and pain for her city. The zone never speaks to her when she protects humanity, sacrifices everything again and again for a planet that can’t even decide if it wants her. Kara shoulders their suffering, bears their pain, carries the weight of their injustice, and she would do it forever if she could. For twenty-four years, she had the silence, the nothingness, the crushing hopelessness of the unknown; she thought only of her mission, her sun erupting, the screams of a burning Krypton. Kara’s mind was stuck on an endless loop, unable to escape the anxiety and agony of her planet’s final moments, and when she came to Earth, finally, after so long, and looked up into the face of her cousin, she heard the Phantom Zone shout. She heard it scream so loud that she covered her ears. The only way to quiet it was to help someone else, to find a new mission, a different purpose. Kara Zor-El was an orphan, a survivor, a traumatized child who had seen far too much far too soon, tortured by a whisper from the stars. Supergirl was steel, power, invincibility, raw strength that encapsulated the parts of Kara Zor-El that nearly drifted from her pod and into the abyss of space. She is good, undeniably, and it keeps her heart from being swallowed by the Zone that remains in her very bones. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

 

When she first sees Lena, tall and proud, her shoulders curled with the heaviness of her brother’s sins, Kara feels something in her spark with recognition. It feels like looking at a mirror through a kaleidoscope. She feels its familiarity, but the image is twisted slightly, different, bent out of shape in a way that makes Kara want to examine Lena until she knows what she’s looking at. She recognizes that flicker of emotion in Lena’s eyes at the mention of Lex. It’s that pain of responsibility for things beyond your control. It’s the agony of having to watch your world slip through your fingers while you are trapped, a spectator, to its destruction. When Lena meets Kara’s eyes, she smiles, and Kara wonders, for a brief, stupid few seconds, if Lena can hear the whispers of the void, too. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

 

Every time that Kara sees Lena following that first meeting, she studies her, observes the way she talks, her posture, the complete and utter composure that has a hold of every aspect of her character. Sometimes, the façade slips, and Kara sees something slip to the surface, a brief second of humanity that softens Lena, brings a light to her cold eyes. Lena reminds Kara of glass; anything that cracks her surface leaves behind such jagged edges that no one can ever again make contact. But Kara yearns to reach forward, run her hands along that glass, let her steel skin glide easily over. If Lena would only let her, Kara thinks, she could find a way to utterly ruin herself on those edges. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Lena turns away, jaw clenched, Kara feels disappointment settle so heavily on her frame that she wants to fall to her knees. This is not the woman that struggled to shed her brother’s crimes, to rebuild something beautiful out of the ashes of her company, the woman who Kara saw righteousness in. She feels crushed, completely, and she can’t even look Lena in the eyes. If she weren’t so angry, she’s pretty sure that the voice would be deafening. Kara holds onto the rage, keeps it tucked away, knowing that as soon as she lets go of it and gives into her despair, the Zone will cripple her. She almost wants to give into the murmurs, if only for a minute, just so she can rest. Kara is so weary, so exhausted, and Lena has stolen the last of her energy. Kara walks past Lena, stiffly, so cold that she thinks she feels Lena shiver as she brushes past. The voice beckons to her. Kara shuts it out, embraces her fury, and steps off the Balcony of L-Corp as Lena turns to look at her one last time. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

 

Kara pays Lena a visit, afterwards, and she can see the weariness of the night in the other woman’s eyes. Lena looks at her when she steps in, her gaze heavy, and Kara glances away, afraid she’ll lose herself in it. 

“I- I misjudged you. I’m sorry. I should have…” Kara takes a deep breath and catches Lena’s eyes. “I should have trusted you.” 

Lena smiles, bittersweet, and something in her eyes grows softer at Kara’s words. 

“I don’t exactly blame you, Supergirl. But honestly, I thought you would have a little more faith in me. I did in you.” She raises an eyebrow, and Kara doesn’t miss the edge to her voice, the disappointment. Kara winces, turns away slightly, uncomfortable under the brunt of Lena’s words. The whisper grows louder. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I just know what that anger feels like. That… That fury, it burns you from the inside out, Lena. It’s so powerful, and it’s so controlling, and I was just so afraid and angry that you had given into it. I should have known better. I’m sorry. I should have known.” Kara swallows roughly, rubs the back of her neck, and Lena is fixated on her, on the discomfort and regret that she can read so plainly in her body language. 

“Which anger are you referring to, Supergirl?” Lena says it casually, but the undercurrent of sorrow, of disappointment, lays clearly underneath. Kara sighs, turns back towards Lena, takes a few steps forward. 

“Family is not always what we want it to be. My father designed a weapon founded in genocide. My mother ignored the cries of a dying planet. My aunt nearly killed me. That anger, Lena, that’s the one I mean. It simmers so dangerously sometimes. I know how it feels to have it so close to the surface.” Supergirl’s tone is hard, unnatural, and for the first time, Lena is astounded at the fundamental humanity that pours of the alien in waves. 

“Did you land here alone?” Lena’s voice is inquisitive, the softest it’s been all night, and Kara inexplicably wants to cry. 

“They died on Krypton. They sent me here to protect Clark, but I was too late. We were separated. I spent twenty-four years, asleep, drifting through the Phantom Zone. I can still hear it, sometimes.” And Kara is incredulous at how much she’s revealing, things she hasn’t even told Alex, but Lena is giving her that look, and Kara can’t keep on like this, not anymore. 

“I’m sorry, Kara.” Lena says, and Kara doesn’t even flinch at Lena’s use of her real name. 

“How long have you known?” Kara stares at the ground, a little ashamed, a little scared, but Lena doesn’t get angry at her, doesn’t yell, and suddenly all Kara feels is relief.

“Kara. You can’t hide from me.” Lena’s voice is kind, knowing, and when Kara looks up, the woman is smiling softly at her. 

And Kara laughs, because she’s heard the same from the stars, and it’s never sounded close to the way it does when it comes out of Lena’s mouth. She feels embraced in it, safe, and she knows, instantly, that Lena will always see right through her. For the first time in her life, she’s not scared to show herself. Kara thinks of the girl who laid in a pod for twenty-four years, hurtling away from a dead planet, and thinks that Lena knows her, this version of herself, and all the others that she’s had to portray for so long. The voice, she thinks, should tremble with fear. 

“Are you familiar with the myth of Atlas, Kara?” Lena speaks softly, letting the words fill the space between them.

“I am. He bore the world on his shoulders, alone, for all of eternity.” She blinks, hard, and feels Lena step closer to her, brushing her hands across the emblem emblazoned on Kara’s chest. 

“Yes, he did. But Kara,” Lena exhales, gently, “You don’t have to.” Lena places her hands on Kara’s cheeks, brings their foreheads together, and Kara shuts her eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. She feels Lena’s words curl deep in her chest, feels the heaviness of it on her soul, and she is so, so tired. 

“I do not carry the burden of this planet, Lena. Clark does. I never will.” Kara’s voice breaks, and she burrows her face into Lena’s neck, taking deep, shuddering, breaths. 

“Oh, Kara. I wasn’t talking about Earth.” Lena whispers, quietly, and the voice from the stars falls silent.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i'm so obsessed with the phantom zone, i just find it super interesting along with all of kara's backstory. i find the concept that she was partially aware in the phantom zone really intriguing. also, i wrote this entire fic in one sitting at midnight so i SINCERELY apologize for even posting it but SHIT life comes at you fast am i right
> 
> any mistakes r mine bc im an idiot


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